To Be A Weasley
by Bottlebrush
Summary: Ron and Ginny discuss some of their friends, and come to a turning point in their own lives. RWGW. PostHBP. One shot, complete.


Title: To Be A Weasley

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter world or its characters. J. K. Rowling does.

Summary: Ron and Ginny discuss some of their friends, and reach a turning point in their own lives.

Rain poured steadily into the garden at The Burrow. Ron and Ginny stood at the window of Ron's room, watching it.

"So, I heard you dumped Hermione," Ginny said accusingly.

They were alone in the house, Molly being away at her Witches' Circle coffee morning, and the others all having returned to their respective occupations.

"You heard wrong," Ron answered. "I didn't dump her. We talked, and we agreed it wasn't going anywhere, and we both decided to stop."

"And she's okay with that?"

"More than okay. She's happy. She's dating Neville now, and not on the rebound either."

"Good. I like Hermione a lot. I'd hate to think you'd been mean to her."

"I wasn't. I love Hermione. Just like I love Harry. Best friends. It should've stayed that way. Oh, sorry."

Ginny looked confused. "Sorry? For what?"

"Mentioning him – Harry. Didn't mean to upset you."

"You didn't. Doesn't bother me one bit. He's history."

"But I really thought, after You Know Who was gone, you and Harry would get back together."

"So did I. When Voldemort – oh, get a grip, Ron, he's _dead_, saying his name isn't going to bring him back - I waited and waited for Harry to say something, and when he didn't, I got thinking. What was all that about anyway? How did Harry splitting up with me keep me safe? The Death Eaters were everywhere, _nobody_ was safe, and I was still his best friend's sister. And the Death Eaters could have targeted me if they wanted to get at Dad or Bill. And didn't Harry care about you and Hermione? _You_ were both still allowed to be close to him. It didn't add up. So I realised it was his way of dropping me, thinking it wouldn't hurt me. Well, it did. But not any more."

"At least he didn't dump you for some girl, like Parvati. Did you know, he's living with Remus now?"

"Yeah, I heard. Hey, you don't think they're……um……?"

"Nah, Remus isn't over Sirius, and he probably never will be. And Harry isn't that way inclined. No, they're just friends."

"I suppose. Know what? I bet he still calls him Professor Lupin."

"Yeah. When they're doing the housework." Ron's grin mirrored Ginny's. He assumed an exaggerated falsetto voice to say "Excuse me, Professor Lupin, would you mind passing me that tea-towel?"

Ginny, affecting hoarseness, responded "Certainly, Harry, but I wonder what you think about the theory that it is more hygienic to dry dishes by magic than to wipe them on a germ-laden towel?"

At Ron's reply, "I don't know, Professor, but Aunt Petunia always made me wipe them," they both collapsed into giggles, clinging together, holding each other up.

Ron put his hands on Ginny's shoulders, feeling her bones, thin, like a small animal. He began, "Ginny, I……"

She shook her head and laid her hand lightly on his mouth, but then her arms went round his neck and her body pressed against his, and their kiss was something new and young, as if neither had ever kissed anyone before, which in a sense was true because nobody else really counted. Not even Harry and Hermione. Nobody else in the world knew what it was to be a Weasley, to be one of the two youngest Weasleys, each throughout their childhood the only comfort and support of the other against the stifling weight of an oppressive loving family; against Molly's smothering protectiveness, Percy's overbearing bossiness, the twins' pranks – fun? Yes, sometimes, but sometimes cruel and malicious, and always uncaring of the pain they caused. So when Ron whispered "There's only you, Ginny," she understood him, and nodded, and nuzzled her face into his neck.

They stood together as if at a fork in the road, knowing the decision they had to make would determine the path they would travel for the rest of their lives.


End file.
